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The Most Valuable Antiques/Chapter One
"How bothersome..." I sighed to myself as I vigorously wiped down the wooden surface of the table near the window, which featured a shelf displaying an array of colorfully-painted Russian nesting dolls. Les Antiquités Les Plus Précieuses – the name of the store owned by my husband and me – was quiet, with the only audible sounds within the building being of the washcloth I was using slightly squeaking as it made contact with the table, and of the battering noise of the rain from outside. I stared out the window, examining the drops of rain on the clouded glass. Summers in Auvers-sur-Oise were typically pleasant, with the sun shining down on the commune and the skies being mostly clear with wisps of clouds. Unfortunately, today was not a typical day, as rain began pouring onto the earth earlier in the evening, and continuing into harsh storms and downpour well into the night. I didn't enjoy having to remain inside the shop for most of the day, especially after my husband Anastas left me on my lonesome in order to retrieve supplies for future projects. I warned him of the weather outside seeing as the rain became more wretched once he made his way towards the door, but he insisted he could withstand some drops of rain. "I managed to survive the harsh, icy winters of Russia," he had said reassuringly to me before leaving. "I won't allow some rain to stop me in my tracks." It has been close to two hours since Anastas left the store, and I felt both feelings of annoyance and concern as the hours dragged along where I continued to be without his company. On most days, I am capable of working in the shop on my own, but the current weather (in addition to the lack of customers during the day) had seriously spoiled my mood, to the point where I couldn't stand to remain in the shop for much longer. I was tempted to flip the sign to its fermé side, head up into our flat, and find solace and comfort in Muska – our cat of two years – as she and I cuddle her on the sofa… But I didn’t, and I also couldn't. I recalled Anastas also insisting we kept the store open just in case there were any poor soul caught in the rain, seeking out shelter. I remembered wanting to object to his reasoning, but I refrained from doing so because he I knew he meant well. He bade me adieu with an embrace and a kiss, then left to the crafts supply store on foot. Since then, I’ve remained in the store on my own, ringing up the rare customer or two who stepped into the building. It was a lonely evening, and the downcast weather from outside didn’t help with the sensation of forlornness I felt throughout the day since Anastas left. Not only that, I was dreadfully bored. I tried keeping myself busy by cleaning and organizing the shop, but even then there’s not a limitless supply of things needing to be kept tidy. After wiping down the table by the window, I looked to my watch to check the time. 8:50 PM It was close to closing time, which was at 9:30 at night. I gave a sigh of relief and wiped my forehead of the drops of sweat which formed from when I was vigorously cleaning the shop. Even if Anastas were to return even later than I’d hope, I still looked forward to closing the store for the night for good and retreating to the flat above the building. While holding the rag, I returned to my station at the front desk where I laid the rag down on its surface. After doing so, I began untying my apron and my locs, which fell loose on my shoulders and down my neck. As I did all this, I then noticed the nesting dolls displayed on the back counter behind the desk were disorganized, so I turned to them in order to do further tidying. Then suddenly... "Sorry for troubling you at this time—" The door abruptly swung open, allowing for the sounds of the outside downpour to creep its way into the shop. Prior to this, I heard the sound of the bell ringing followed by several footsteps, indicating patrons walking through the front door, and then a shaky voice called out – in heavily accented French, like that of an Englishman’s take on the French language. Shortly afterward, another voice cut in – this time in perfect French. "Is there a chance you could spare us a room for the night?" "Fantastic," I thought to myself, exasperated, "just when I’m supposed to prepare for closing, and during this weather of all days..." ''Nevertheless, I turned away from arranging the set of nesting dolls on the back counter and turned to greet the patrons. "Good evening, gentlemen! How may I be of assistance?" I said to them in a chipper tone with a benign smile, feigning irritation. In front of me were two young men, drenched from rain. They appeared to be around their late twenties to early thirties – around the same age as me, if not a bit more aged. Examining the pair, I made a note of the distinct aspects of their physicalities. Out of the two, the one with tan, freckled skin was the most peculiar in appearance, almost ''enigmatic, even. Additionally, he was the least drenched between him and his companion, which seemed to be attributed to the wet mess of a "newspaper" I noticed him holding. The corners of his mouth formed a friendly smile, with hints of mischief and jubilance, yet his gray eyes – droopy and drowsy – betrayed those aspects of his visage. Most peculiar was the presence of a large rose of a brilliant scarlet hue budding from his forehead, which was noticeable as it bloomed upon his rain-soaked, golden locks. He towered over his companion, who in turn barely reached the taller man’s ears. The young man with the rose on his forehead was accompanied by another man around his age. He differed somewhat, not only in his current drenched state, but with his reddened blond hair, which resembled soft auburn locks. He was more pale in complexion, almost'' sickly'' too. His eyes were also gray, and like his partner, there was a certain sadness to them. Compared to his friend, he appeared more stern. Truthfully, there was nothing peculiar about him, though there was an inquisitiveness to him – in a way, it reminded me of my husband. "Once again," the shorter individual said hurriedly in French as he approached the front desk, "I’d like to apologize—er, say we’re sorry for bothering you this late into the night." I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow, though I found myself invested in the two of them as I leaned on the desk, indicating my intrigue as I continued listening. "My boyfriend and I were told you have a spare room you’d rent out to someone," he continued, and his tone became more relaxed as his rose-bearing partner laid a hand on his shoulder. I couldn’t help but ease up on my exasperation, then smiled as he referred to his companion as his "boyfriend" and at the gesture made by him. "What you’ve been told is correct," I said, then I noticed their expressions lighten up with a glimmer of hope. I smirked, and continued "But—" Their faces deflated with despair once I said "but". I let out a chuckle, then I said, "You must let me finish before you start looking so blue." "We’re sorry," said the man with the rose on his forehead. His free hand searched for the hand of his partner, and soon they were both locked in a tender hold. He sighed, then explained, "We hadn’t anticipated some… well, unfortunate mishaps in our little adventure," he turned his head, indicating to the wet newspaper rag he was holding, "and I get terribly ill when I’m exposed to rain for too long—and as for Kaden here…" He glanced worriedly to his partner, whose name I presumed was "Kaden". Upon closer inspection, I began noticing things that seemed off ''with him. From the start I picked up on the moroseness of his eyes, but now I was able to notice the strained nature of those eyes and the extremity of the dark circles underneath them. He appeared more sullen, almost gaunt-like. I could only imagine his relationship with sleep being merely ''acquaintances, if not complete strangers. I noticed something else about him that I hadn’t originally noticed at first glance. He was shaking, but the way he trembled was not entirely from the downpour he battled with earlier. A sense of pity and tenderness rushed to my heart. "Good Grimm," I muttered, wide-eyed. Feeling concerned, I asked Kaden's partner, "Is he okay?" I didn't realize I blurted out the question until after the words escaped from my mouth. Quickly covering my mouth with the tips of my fingers, I worried about sounding insensitive. "Well, we're both not doing great, but he’s far worse off than I am," he explained, his tone weary and strained. He then pleaded, "We just need a place to stay for the night—perhaps a couple more. Prices can be negotiated later, but a place with a bed is all we need now." I heard the shaky tone in his voice – it was dangerously close to bordering on desperation. Noticing Kaden's shaking caused him to drop the drenched newspaper rag, which allowed for both his hands to hold those of Kaden's. Once again, the same sense of pity from before overcame me, overriding the slight annoyance I had when he dropped the paper mess on the floor. There was a long exchange of silence – the only noise was the faint sound of the rain pouring down upon the Earth from outside the shop. "My husband and I live in a flat directly above this shop," I finally conceded, breaking the silence. "There are two vacant rooms adjacent to ours, each set with a kitchenette and toilet room. I’m sure it will be fine for you to room together." The glimmer of hope I’d seen in their expressions returned. "Thank you so much," Kaden weakly smiled, before erupting in a violent fit of coughs. This was soon followed by him breathing out strenuously, "Dear me, I’m going to faint." His knees then began to wobble and he almost collapsed, however his boyfriend caught him before he landed on the hardwood flooring. I hastily left the front desk and rushed towards them in order to help Kaden’s rose-bearing partner. Together, he and I carried Kaden up the stairs leading to the flat above the store. His coughs echoed throughout the stairwell. "Once again, thank you so much—we're eternally grateful, er…" The man who bore the rose on his forehead couldn't finish his though as he trailed off to examine my features with an inquisitive stare. I met his gaze with a kind but wry smile. "You may call me Elias." -----Read the next chapter here.Category:The Most Valuable Antiques Category:Subpages